Where Love Ends
by Rumaan
Summary: Love always lost out to war.


**Author's Note: This was written for the Game of Ships Challenges on Tumblr. It's unbeta'd and was written in a few hours so please excuse any mistakes.**

 **Also I am not GRRM and make no profit from this.**

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 **Where Love Ends**

Everyone knew why Wylis Manderly had brought his two daughters to Moat Cailin with him and Robb was not overly impressed. He was marching to war to free his father from the dungeons of King's Landing where he was being held by the Lannisters not looking to betroth himself.

Theon had grinned when Wylis had presented his daughters and ribbed Robb that he would find himself hitched before he had even left the North and been able to seek the more supple girls of the South.

Robb had rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, but so far, he had managed to have little to do with the Manderly maids. There was too much to organise and oversee before he went through the Neck and entered the Riverlands. He also had no inclination to woo any pretty girls as he was anxious.

It hadn't needed Greatjon Umber in the Great Hall at Winterfell to remind him that he was naught but a green boy. He knew that better than anyone. Here he was leading his father's men and attempting to create the illusion that he was smart and wise enough to deal with them all. At least his father had given him advice on how to honour them all so that none of the Stark liegemen felt belittled. He'd ridden with Lord Karstark the previous day and later had dined with Lord Bolton on his right that night. He'd broken his fast with Lord Glover and was set to honour Lord Manderly at the midday meal. It was a juggling act, but at least he had acquitted himself well so far.

He clattered down the steps of the Gatehouse Tower, needing some time to himself. He had been surrounded by his father's bannermen since he'd ordered Maester Luwin to call them to arms.

The thought of the old Maester made him long for Winterfell. It had pained him to leave Bran and Rickon. Bran who looked so broken and Rickon who had clung to him since everyone else had left and had looked so betrayed when he had explained that he had to go. Rickon had shook his head and run off with Shaggydog once Robb had promised to return and couldn't be found as Robb had saddled up and left. Bran had sat on Hodor's shoulders, looking frailer than ever as he'd waved off Robb and the Stark vassals that had gathered at Winterfell.

When Grey Wind could not be with Robb, he had taken to waiting for him in one of the disused rooms at the bottom of the Gatehouse Tower. The wall was crumbling in one section, meaning that it was only used to store some of the more cumbersome objects his army was transporting south. He wondered why his wolf had chosen this particular room, but soon found the reason why.

He stopped just around the corner as he heard the female voice. "Oh, aren't you the most adorable wolf ever," it said and Robb suppressed a snort.

It was obviously one of Wylis Manderly's daughters – he could tell by how well-spoken the voice was. He peered around the door and could see Grey Wind lying on his back as the one with green tinted hair rubbed his stomach and Grey Wind snuggled his head into her lap gratefully.

Robb raised an eyebrow. Grey Wind was greeted by most people with caution and fear. Tales of him biting Greatjon's fingers off had spread far and wide through Robb's camp, as had the direwolves' reception of Tyrion Lannister as the imp passed through Winterfell on his way back from the Wall. Grey Wind was far from full grown, but he was already larger than a normal sized wolf and to see this thin slip of a girl cuddling up to him as if he was nothing but an overgrown dog was impressive.

"Are you not worried that he may bite _your_ fingers off?" he asked coming into the room.

The girl – Wylla, he thought her name was – jumped at the sound of his voice, scrambling to her knees and attempting to brush the dirt from her skirts. It was a move reminiscent of his sister Arya and he found himself hit with a pang of longing for his troublesome little sister who had always dogged his and Jon's footsteps and begged to join in their training until Jory would shoo her away back to her septa.

"My lord," she said, making a creditably curtsey.

Grey Wind padded to his side, butting his head against his hand and demanding that Robb pet him. "I see you are spoiling Grey Wind with attention. I did wonder why he was always in here."

"It's the only place I have found where I can be left alone," Wylla said. "We are so cooped up here."

"For a reason," Robb said. "An army retinue is no place for a young lady."

Wylla coloured up at his words. He hadn't meant them as rebuke to her grandfather's actions in sending the girls with their father, but he supposed they could easily be interpreted as such.

"I did not mean to –" he started to say but she raised a hand to stop him.

She gave him a rueful look and said, "My grandfather has been rather transparent, but neither Wynafryd nor myself expect you to devote any attention to us. Planning such a campaign must be very time consuming."

"Do you have much experience in planning warfare, my lady?" he asked, amused.

She gave a delightful laugh at that. "Only if you count Cyvasse, my lord."

"Ah, I will have to test my wits against yours someday. My brother Jon could never beat me."

"You might find a Manderly a rather different prospect, my lord."

Robb grinned but before he could reply, the gong that was being used to announce mealtimes sounded. He held out his arm towards Wylla. "Can I escort you to the midday meal, my lady?"

She linked her arm through his and said, "I would be honoured, my lord."

From that day on, Robb always found a moment in his day to slip away from the endless planning sessions to meet up with Wylla in the disused room. He would send Grey Wind to find her, the wolf instinctively seeming to understand what he wanted. Only Theon seemed to notice Robb's daily disappearances and he teased Robb mercilessly about green haired mermaids luring unsuspecting lords to their doom.

But Wylla made Robb smile and has time marched on, he found he had little enough to smile about. He was surrounded by wily lords double or treble his age and he enjoyed how much he could relax in Wylla's presence. She could be brutally honest but he found himself respecting that aspect of her, even when she directed it at him. She was also indomitable and he found one afternoon that she had told the truth about her skills at Cyvasse – she was almost impossible to defeat.

His interludes with her were a welcome break from constantly being on his toes and needing to think one step ahead. However, their time was limited and all too soon, Robb was marshalling his troops, ready to move further south, and Wylla was being sent back to White Harbour with her sister, septa and a small escort.

"I should send more men," Robb said. "The escort your father is sending back is not large enough."

Wylla smiled. "It is more than generous already, my lord. Besides, we are heading back to White Harbour, not off to war."

Her smile dropped at that and she looked anxious. He drew nearer and put an arm around her waist. She startled at his touch and colour flooded her cheeks, but she did not move away which emboldened him to hold her close. "I will be back before you know it."

She shot him a disdainful glare at that. "Do not insult my intelligence, Robb Stark. I am not some giddy girl who thinks war is that easy."

"I will come back to you, I promise," he said, daring to bend his head and kiss her softly.

She sighed into the kiss, her arms coming up around his neck and she pulled him closer, her lips moving inexpertly against his.

 _Theon can keep his southern girls_ , he thought. _I only want my northern Wylla._

He was grateful that she did not shed any tears when they parted some delicious minutes later. He whispered his intentions of coming to White Harbour for her when he returned and she clung closely to him before she kissed his cheek and stepped back. She gave him one desperate look over her shoulder before she disappeared back to the Manderly quarters.

His blood fizzed with the desire to bring her back to Winterfell as his lady now, but it was impossible. He had to go to war, he needed to rescue his father from the Lannisters. It all felt so much scarier now that he had lost his heart.

"What else is it, Mother?" Robb asked.

She was holding something back from him. Something she hesitated to ask of him, almost as if she was sizing him up to see how he would react. The terms that Walder Frey had asked of them so far had been easy enough to agree to – although he was sure Arya would not see it that way. Getting his little sister to marry anyone would be difficult enough, but to ask her to marry for the sake of a bridge… his ankle ached at the thought of the kick she would give it.

"If we are to use his bridge, Walder Frey has stated that you need to marry a Frey. He has been gracious enough to give you the pick of all of his eligible daughters and granddaughters."

Robb swallowed at his mother's words and Wylla's fiercely determined face swam into his mind. His mother knew that he aimed for a marriage with her once his father was free. There would be no opposition from old Lord Wyman. It was the reason she and her sister had been sent to Moat Cailin after all.

He had kissed her that last morning and promised that he would return to her. He had no wish to break that promise, no wish to return to Winterfell with a bride that was not her.

"He will not let us pass without you agreeing to this, Robb," Catelyn said, and he could hear the anxiety in her voice.

His lady mother was correct in that they could not besiege the castle either. They had no way to encircle them both. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place and both of them knew it.

"He will not accept Arya's betrothal as a strong enough link?" he asked hopefully.

His mother turned sad eyes on him. "Arya is not the heir to Winterfell, my love, just a girl and Walder Frey has little enough respect for girls as it is. No, a betrothal with House Stark through Arya will not be enough. Lord Frey is ambitious and he seeks for a Frey to be Lady of Winterfell."

The bile rose in Robb's throat at the thought. He did not want to set anyone in his mother's chambers other than Wylla, did not want to bed anyone other than Wylla. But he knew that speed was of the essence if the armies of the North were to free his father. That months of delay as they attempted to besiege the Twins or to find another crossing across the Green Fork would only hasten this mission's demise.

He swallowed, his throat painfully dry as if it wanted to stop him from choking out the words. "I consent to the conditions," he said.

"You are sure?" Catelyn asked. "You cannot back out of this at a later date, Robb. You are committing to wedding a Frey."

Robb was grateful that his mother did not mention Wylla's name. To hear it uttered aloud would test his resolve and probably break it. But his lord father had always taught him that to lead was to make personal sacrifices and an alliance with the Freys, beating the Lannisters, and freeing his father was more important than his heart – no matter how much it hurt.

"I understand and I still agree. I will wed a daughter of House Frey."

When the news came of Robb's incarceration and then death at the Twins, Wylla had sobbed in her bedchamber. His letter to her explaining his need to marry a Frey all those months ago was nothing to the pain this caused. Oh, she had cried and shouted and scoffed at his profession of his undying love for her in that letter. However, later, when her blood had cooled, she had seen the difficult situation he had been put in. She could not fault him for putting his need to get to Riverrun quickly for his father's sake above her.

But now her heart ached at the realisation that he had sacrificed their love for an alliance that had done nothing but see him betrayed and murdered all whilst under the sacred Guest Right. He had done everything Walder Frey had asked of him, put aside his attachment to her, married his Frey girl and it had not been enough for the Frey greed.

They had waited until the girl carried his child and then killed him. They had mutilated her beloved's body, sewn fierce Grey Wind's head on his body and mockingly paraded him around the scene of destruction and death.

They had also imprisoned her father.

Wylla had been unable to leave her bed for three days after her grandfather had told her.

Wylla hadn't shed any tears when the Freys turned up in White Harbour. She would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how they had broken her heart when they had killed her king. However, she could not understand how grandfather could stand to have them at his Court. How he could seat them in high places of honour and offer them an alliance through marriage.

A marriage with not only her sister but her.

Wylla had screamed at her grandfather long into the night, not caring if her words carried through White Harbour. She had loved her Robb and she would not give what should have been rightfully his to his murderers. Her grandfather had patted her on the head, told her that he expected her to do her duty and began the arrangements that would see her wedded and bedded in the castle where they had killed her beloved. Her limbs had shaken uncontrollably as she denounced him and swore that he was no blood of hers.

When she heard of Alys Karstark, brave Alys who had run from the Karhold to Robb's only remaining brother, the bastard Jon Snow, she wished she'd had the foresight to do that. Her grandfather, with a knowing eye, had read the letter out, shaken his head at Alys' foolhardiness and set a guard to follow Wylla everywhere.

When Stannis Baratheon's Onion Knight arrived in their court, Wylla could not bite her tongue any more. She listened in mounting rage as her father denounced this Davos Seaworth and the Freys spewed forth horrible lies about Robb and made him a monster. She exploded in a pent up ball of fury and grief, reminding the court of their debt to the Starks. She could not proclaim her love of Robb Stark, but she would remind her grandfather of what they owed House Stark.

There was both shock and admiration in Davos Seaworth's eyes and she stood tall. She could be as brave her Young Wolf had been. She hadn't even quailed as her grandfather threatened to send her to the Silent Sisters. That was a preferable fate than being married to a Frey.

She had let a tear fall as she saw the head of the smuggler atop the New Castle. Anyone who was an enemy of the Freys and Boltons was her ally, but her grandfather had executed him as a traitor under orders from the Lannisters in King's Landing.

Wylla had hugged her grandfather fiercely after he gave the Freys their parting gifts and sent assassins after them. He had not been disloyal like she had feared. He chucked her under the chin, called her a silly girl, and told her to have more faith in her kin. House Manderly would see that House Stark was avenged, that her love for Robb was avenged. She had gaped when he told her about Davos Seaworth and his mission to find Rickon Stark. She had begged that he allowed her to see where he'd concealed the Freys' bodies and she'd spat on them with relish.

Later, she went to the old Godswood, even though she was of the Seven, and prayed with tears streaming down her cheeks for Rickon Stark to be found.

She would honour and serve Rickon Stark as her king for the debt her house owed and for the North.

But most of all she would honour Rickon Stark for her Robb.


End file.
